


Grief

by Jean Genie (Su_Abeille)



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Ethanessa, F/M, FIx It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage, Post season/series 2 fix it, Post-Season/Series 02, Recovery, Season 3 AU, Season 3 Redo, Season 3 rewrite, The Lovers AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Abeille/pseuds/Jean%20Genie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan and Vanessa lose something very precious and try to find a way to go on together, eventually leaving England to get away from the painful memories and have time in a healing place. </p><p>A two part story set in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/351620">The Lovers</a> universe but can be read separately.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grief

**Author's Note:**

> This is, initially, a very angsty fic. I wrote it in the middle of season three and was waiting to post it until after the finale when I believed things wouldn't be as depressing as they had been throughout the season. (Little did I know what awaited us all at the end.) 
> 
> This is part one of two.

The five stages of grief are experienced in no particular order - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

 

It was at the darkest point of the night. Vanessa was jarred awake by a deep stab of pain in her abdomen, crippling in its intensity. Through the haze of agony, she realized that she could feel something around her on the bed. With her heart seized with fear, she pulled back the sheets to see a deep crimson stain around her lower half. 

Ethan awoke to the sound of her screaming over and over, “The baby!”

 

This wasn’t something that either of them ever thought possible. All the things each of them had done, the pain they had caused others, this made the future seem crushing in its hopelessness. Each had wanted many times to end their lives to escape the future. Dreams of joy awaiting them didn’t shine in the darkness that had been their lives. Even when they had been able to escape this hopelessness, been each other’s redemption, if, in brief searing flashes, the idea of a child appeared in their dreams, both of them had rejected it, out of fear and guilt. Though they never mentioned this to one another, they both accepted the idea that it would never happen, that they could never atone enough to be allowed such a blessing.

 

It wasn’t unusual for Vanessa’s cycles to be erratic. Like every other aspect of her life, this was just another thing that was different, that she wasn’t capable of doing like other women. She’d attributed it to the self loathing she had for her own womanhood, the disconnect between her mind and her body. When she began to have persistent nausea, she had assumed it was nothing more than a passing thing, but Ethan, being as protective as he was, insisted the Doctor come and make sure she was okay. 

When the Doctor had asked him to step into the room after he’d examined Vanessa, Ethan’s heart thundered with fear. He saw this same fear in Vanessa’s eyes as she reached out for his hand. Victor saw their matching frightened faces and rushed to explain.

“There’s no reason to be alarmed. There is, in fact, nothing wrong with Vanessa.” This young man, usually haunted by sadness, was smiling in a way that neither of them had seen before.

“Victor, what is it?” Vanessa knew something was happening, could feel the air in the room changing, could sense the light becoming brighter.

“Vanessa, you’re going to have a baby.”

Neither of them reacted at first as shock and disbelief slammed into them. Victor watched as actualization started to dawn on Vanessa, watched as a hope, a trembling joy, took over her face, as happy tears filled her eyes.

“Are you-are you sure?” Vanessa voice was tentative, even a little fearful.

“Yes. And all is healthy.”

Ethan’s knees weakened and suddenly he was sitting on the bed next to her, completely overwhelmed. How could this be possible? How could this moment be real? His mind was reeling and he was dizzy with shock. 

He felt a tug on his hand and was brought back to reality. He looked over at Vanessa, her chin trembling, her eyes uncertain.

“Is this- Are you happy with this?” Her voice was scared, concerned at his lack of reaction. Her eyes searched his dumbfounded face, uncertain that this was what he wanted.

Ethan couldn’t find his voice, his throat squeezed tight by all the emotions in him. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the same joy and fear and shock she was feeling. He took her hand in both of his and kissed her fingers. His beautiful Vanessa, always performing miracles. 

 

The house was transformed in the following month. Sir Malcolm was bursting with pride at the idea of a baby, his grandchild, coming into the world. Immediately the guest bedroom was emptied of its furniture, its wallpaper stripped, and painters were hired to paint the walls a soft yellow, so bright and warm a color as no other room in the house. After it had been finished, Ethan found Vanessa standing in the doorway, looking at the room in wonderment. He came up behind her to wrap his arms around her and they both looked at this sunshine breaking into the darkness that had been their lives. 

In the late afternoons while Vanessa was resting per the Doctor’s orders, Ethan would go down to the cellar. In this place where he had been caged, where his monster had overcome him, he began to craft a cradle for the new life he had created with the woman he loved. He had ordered yellow pine from America. It reminded him of things that were new, the sight of the sun beaming down on the towns out West created from this honey coloured wood, bright with promise and the future. This was going to be his gift to Vanessa, his loving tribute to the woman who was carrying his future inside her.

As he carved delicate scrolls and flourishes he fell into a meditative state. He reveled in the joy that was pumping life into his whole body, thought about that sunshine filled room that would hold this miracle, about what a child that was part him and part Vanessa would be like, what it would feel like to hold this small bundle of hope in his arms, to see the future suckling at Vanessa’s breast. He felt a joy so huge that it seemed at times frightening in its immensity. This was such a precious gift, he would work hard to be the kind of man that deserved it. He could feel the wolf’s intentions, its singular focus on Vanessa and her safety becoming even stronger. Together, they would protect Vanessa, protect this child. Nothing else mattered to him now but the safety of his family.

 

It had taken Vanessa weeks to allow herself to believe that this was real, that this was something that she was even capable of doing. She had abused her body with negligent disregard her whole life, committed dreadful acts of pain with it, had her skin inhabited by the darkest of evils. Ethan had defeated this threat and the safety and the freedom she felt within his protection was like no other feeling. It had opened up her life to so much, released her from a prison of fear. But this, this was beyond anything she had ever dreamed possible. Her body, creating life, growing innocence within her, it couldn’t be happening. 

It wasn’t until Victor has placed his stethoscope in her ears and put the end on her abdomen, until she heard the faint fluttering of the heart beat over her own strong pulse, that she allowed herself to believe it was real. She was able to look inward, and with a burst of light she sensed it finally, sensed the purity inside her. 

At night she laid in bed next to Ethan and they placed hands over the growing baby inside her, neither having the words to speak of the tremulous hope that this was bringing to their future. Ethan would kiss her and kiss her and kiss her, so in love with her, so grateful for what she was making possible for him, for them. There was a contentment in these moments that neither of them had ever experienced, a fragile peace. 

 

Ethan was like an animal, laced with panic, when he saw the blood staining the sheets. 

“Ethan? Ethan? It’s okay, isn’t it? It’s okay, isn’t it?” The desperate hope in her voice would haunt him for the rest of his life, a nightmare that would never go away.

Her face was drained of all colour, her eyes wild as she frantically grabbed onto him, hysterical with fear. Her shrieks became almost unnatural, desperate, and then suddenly her body become limp, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she passed out. 

While Sir Malcolm rode madly through the London streets for the Doctor, Ethan sat on the bed, holding Vanessa’s unconscious body, watching the blood stain slowly grow.

“Please God, please God.” He chanted. The fear of losing her was the greatest terror he had ever known. Those long minutes stretched into eons as he prayed and prayed, begging God to save her, to save the baby, to not take them away from him. He promised God anything, everything, his own life, if theirs would be spared. 

 

Ethan and Sir Malcolm stood in the hallway outside of the bedroom while the Doctor was with Vanessa. There was a heavy silence between them. Ethan looked down and saw Vanessa’s blood on his clothes, his hands. The visual of this, of the fact that she could be laying in there dying, and that it had been his child in her that killed her, made him sick at his own existence. 

When the Doctor came out, his face was washed of any emotion. He was in a state of detachment that allowed him to do what he had to do, to see that bloody dead hope, and now to be able to say the words he had to say.

“She still hasn’t regained consciousness, but I believe she will be alright. I don’t know why I didn’t see it. I don’t know how…” He was speaking as if to no one. Ethan felt weak with relief that Vanessa was going to be okay, followed by the rise of the fear he’d been holding back.

“The baby?” Sir Malcolm asked. Victor answered in a broken whisper. 

“Gone.” 

 

Vanessa didn’t regain consciousness for another day and a half. Though she was still not out of danger yet, there was a sense of relief, shamefully felt, by the Doctor and by Sir Malcolm, that she could be in a place where she didn’t know of what she had loss. 

Ethan was unable to actualize that the baby was gone. He was so focused on Vanessa, willing her to be okay that he had blocked out the knowledge of what had happened. He felt it creeping up on him, the sharp panic inducing graze of the truth and shut it out immediately, terrified of the torment of it. 

Finally on the morning of the second day, her thready, weak voice broke the silence.

“Ethan?” 

He reached out and took her hand immediately, his heart pounding with relief.

“I’m right here, darling.”

Her eyes opened and she saw him, saw the Doctor at the door with Sir Malcolm. All three of the faces of the men she loved were white, exhausted, haunted with sadness and it all came rushing back to her.

“The blood. Oh Ethan, the blood!” She began to tremble. “The baby? The baby?”

He took a deep shuddering breath, sinking his teeth into his lower lip to the point of pain to calm himself enough to say these words to her.

“The baby’s gone, Vanessa.”

She snatched her hand away from him like he’d burned her, shaking her head. 

“No. No.” She looked to the Doctor, looked at him to tell her that this was not true.

“I’m sorry, Vanessa.” Victor’s voice was like that of a fearful child, his eyes full of tears. 

She looked to Sir Malcolm and saw his cheeks wet with grief, but still, this knowledge was too big for her mind to handle.

“No! No! You’re wrong!” Her body began to shake uncontrollably as shock slammed into her. She wrapped her arms tight around her midsection, resulting in a sharp, deep stab of pain making her spasm in agony.

In a horrible mimicry of the dark time when the devil had a hold of her, Ethan and Sir Malcolm had to hold her still as the Doctor pushed a needle of opiates into her.

She fell back then in a dreamless sleep as the drug quickly overwhelmed her.

 

It wasn’t until days later than Ethan realized what was going on. He had been going about as if in a fog, unable to realize the scope of what had happened, in a state of deep denial. His only focus was Vanessa. He had taken no real notice of the Doctor, of Sir Malcolm. He couldn’t hear their words, couldn’t see anything outside of this woman he loved, still so precariously on the brink. 

It was when she finally swam back to consciousness that he realized the truth. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused. She looked at him for a long moment, as if he wasn’t really there and then a ghost of a smile, unnatural in its origins, appeared.

“The baby is a girl, Ethan. I can feel her.” 

The fog in his mind finally cleared as Ethan recognized the false euphoria that Vanessa was feeling. He watched her eyes close, that unnatural smile still on her face and a deep burning rage, hotter and more bloodthirsty than any he had ever felt rushed through him. With a deep, murderous growl, he stalked down to the parlour.

His eyes were blinded by his fury as he grabbed the Doctor by his throat, yanking him to his feet and then slamming him against the wall. With teeth bared, he leaned close to him.

“You fucking coward!”

“Ethan, stop this!” He felt Sir Malcolm trying to pull him back but he would not be moved.

“You think you can pump her full of your poison and that will make this okay? You want to make her a hollow walking corpse like you?” 

“Please!” Victor managed to say, his throat cut off by Ethan’s angry grasp. The red cloud of rage cleared momentarily and he saw the fear, the despair in Victor’s eyes. 

He released him, leaving the Doctor gasping for breath and clutching his bruised throat. The three men were silent, the sadness that lay over everything returning, its heaviness blotting out any passionate emotions, making them all again weak with sorrow. 

“I couldn’t- I can’t..” The Doctor struggled to speak, voice raspy from Ethan’s anger but also choked now with his own despair. Finally Ethan saw him clearly, saw how broken Victor was, saw the love that he felt for the woman who had become like a sister to him. 

“I failed her. I failed the baby.” His head was hung with his shame. “I thought that I could spare her this. I can’t bear the idea of her living with the knowledge of this loss, of my failure.”

Drained of all emotion save exhaustion, Ethan fell back into the chair behind him. He had wanted this too. He had wanted to keep Vanessa from having to face the truth, face how he himself had failed to protect her.

“This isn’t our decision.” Sir Malcolm said, voice weary but firm. “We must allow her to grieve, to try and handle the truth. We must trust in the immense strength that we know she has within her.”

 

Slowly Vanessa was weaned off the opiates that were keeping her in an induced haze. The three men watched as she came back to herself, watched her eyes become unclouded, and slowly, the realization dawn on her. 

“It’s gone.” 

There was no emotion in her voice, her eyes without the light that animated her, without any sign of the strong spirit within. Vanessa looked at each of them in the eye, and then turned her head away. 

For many days after she was as one in a trance. There were no tears, no speaking, no response to any entreaties. She laid in the bed much like she had before she had awoken, unmoving, her eyes unfocused. The Doctor said she’d gone into a dissociative fugue state, her mind unable to process the fact that she had lost the baby. He said there was nothing they could do to pull her from this, that it was her brain protecting itself from the shock. 

Her presence was so utterly lacking that, without realizing it, the Doctor and Sir Malcolm began to talk about her like she wasn’t there, because in some way she wasn’t. They murmured to one another about possible treatments, about the affects of trauma, about finding a mental doctor for her to speak to. It was only Ethan whose eyes never left her, who waited for some sign that his strong willed, quick witted Vanessa was in there somewhere. This was still his singular focus. Neither of the other men, in their concern for Vanessa, noticed it, but Ethan was in his own state of deep denial, the truth of the loss overwhelmed still by the persistent fear of losing the woman he loved. He had no idea how much time had passed, only that he missed her so deeply, and needed her to come back to him, to be well, to let him try in some way to help her. 

Eventually, Sir Malcolm noticed the untouched plates of food, the silence, and Ethan’s never changing position at Vanessa’s side. Through his own grief he saw the hunched shoulders and haunted eyes of this man who was as a son to him. He stood next to Ethan, looking down with him at Vanessa’s blank face and put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“My boy, you need to eat. To take a moment for yourself.”

“I can’t leave her.” Ethan’s eyes never left her face. The older man heaved a great sigh, full of empathy, knowing what it felt like for a father to lose a child. He too had been haunted everywhere he looked in the house, all the signs of hope that had been cruelly taken from them. 

“If it’s the room, where the-” He couldn’t finish the sentence. “The bedroom has been put back as it was. You do not have to face it.”

The older man had done this for Vanessa, but also for himself. The sight of the bright sunshine walls in a room that now held so much dead hope, it had been destroying him every time he passed it. He had it quietly repainted, and had closed and locked the door against what had been dreamt possible in there.

Ethan’s shoulders slumped at this, his head dropping as a wave of anguish rushed over him at the thought of that room, of the feelings he had had standing in it. How could he have ever thought something like that possible for a man as monstrous as himself? How could he ever even hope for such joy? How could he forgot who he was and what he had done? 

The sound of rattling glass brought him out of his crippling despair. 

The lamps were trembling and the window panes quivering. He looked up to see that Vanessa had finally come back to full consciousness. Her face was distorted with rage, her teeth bared, her body tense with fury.

“Vanessa-” 

Suddenly the glass lamp next to the bed exploded and the whole room began to tremble. Her eyes were locked on Sir Malcolm.

“You think you can lock the door on this? You think there is an escape?” She hissed at him as objects started to fly across the room, as the mirror on the wall cracked, as the bed shook with her dangerous, all consuming rage. 

Sir Malcolm pulled back not out of fear, but at his own guilt. Even though he had said that they needed to let Vanessa work through this, he himself had tried to hide the truth. Her eyes, the beautiful blue eyes of his daughter, burned into him, and he was reduced to tears. 

“Vanessa!” Ethan screamed out over the sound of destruction around them. “Vanessa, stop!”

He took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. The rage in her eyes changed to scalding agony, a pain so deep that it seemed endless. Sobs bubbled up from this dark depth and she shuddered with them, her face soaked with her tears. 

“I murdered my own child!” Her words were laced with pain, like that of one being horrifically tortured. 

“No, Vanessa, no.” He pulled her to him, held her tightly, shushing her, soothing her. Finally the room stilled, leaving sharp shards of broken glass all around them. 

“I failed you, Ethan.” She sobbed into his chest. 

“You didn’t fail me.” He murmured through her ragged weeping. “My darling, you never could.”

 

This eruption pulled Vanessa from the fugue that she’d been wrapped in, and she was now at least partially present, though still blanketed with a deep depression, so heavy she could barely move under the weight of it. 

When Ethan softly asked her if she wanted to go and sit in the soft armchair that had been brought up and placed in front of the bedroom windows, she had tried to move. But when her feet touched the ground the reality of it, the idea of standing up, of navigating a world without that bright hope drained her of all strength. 

Ethan was there and wordlessly slid an arm under her knees and another around her waist and picked up her tiny, fragile body, holding her close and carrying her to chair. He placed her in it with gentle care, catching her eyes to give her a reassuring look. As he turned back to fetch her a blanket, her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t leave.” She pleaded in a small voice.

“Never.”

 

In the stupor of her sadness, she was like a lost child, completely reliant on his guidance. When he asked her to eat, she did, dutifully swallowing each spoonful of broth he raised to her lips. When he bathed her with such gentleness, she sat still and small and silent in the tub of warm water. When he pulled her dressing gown on her, she submitted to it wordlessly. Sitting in the chair by the window again, finally clean and dressed, she looked at him with large haunted eyes unable to speak.

So this became their days. She sat in front of the window, saying little, eyes focused on the dark, cloudy sky, with haunted memories and crippling emotions playing out across her face. Ethan sat next to her on the wooden chair he’d been sitting on for weeks, with her limp hand laying in his. As they sat in silence for hours, he studied this, the small pale hand, the fragileness of her body in comparison to the strength of her will. He ran his fingers along the fine bones, the soft skin, the long fingers. Whenever the sharp bite of his own grief came too close he focused on this, on being there for her, on being strong for her. 

When she was finally able to drop off to sleep at night, however, his mind brought up bright flashes, the searing hope he had felt, the secret visions of his possible future. He remembered how the idea of being a father, even though it was such a foreign concept, that it somehow felt right, like it was something he was meant to do. He felt the fading echo of the joy that had made him feel almost drunk, the dizzying happiness that the future held. Beyond this, it was the idea of Vanessa as a mother, as the mother of his child, this was the thing that took his breath away with the eclipsing joy of it. This amazing woman, a force like he had never known, so kind, so loving, so strong, as the mother of his child. This baby was going to be a wonder, like no other child.

Then reality slammed into him. There would be no beautiful little girl with Vanessa’s sharp blue eyes. That was gone, lost in the blood that had been shed in their bed.

In those dark moments in the night he faced what he believed to be true. It was him. It was his curse. He would know no joy. He would cause only pain to those close to him. He had caused this to happen. 

But he said nothing of this to Vanessa, to anyone. He blocked out this pain with hypervigilance, making sure she was always protected and cared for, with complete disregard for himself.

 

He knew that the night of the full moon was approaching and was racked with panic. Before this, Vanessa would be able to keep the wolf under her control. He would spend these nights curled up next to her, the beast knowing she was safe, its blood lust quelled. Now, though, this was not something he could ask from her, it wasn’t something she was able to do right now, as lost as she was. 

He was scared. Not only at the idea of leaving Vanessa for a night but for himself. He was barely controlling his emotions right now and fueled with the depth of them, he know that the wolf could be capable of anything. 

As the night approached he had placed her on his lap and held her as close as he could. She clung to him, arms tight around his neck, head ducked into his neck. He asked her again and again if she was going to be okay and she whispered yes, yes, yes. He couldn’t look her in the eyes when he finally had to lift her up and put her to bed, tucking the blankets around her. He turned away from her silently, unable to say anything over the roar of fear inside him.

 

He had forgotten about the cradle. Seeing it sitting in the shadows of the cellar was a sharp slam in the gut, leaving him breathless with agony. He turned away from it quickly, unable to look at the care and joy and love that he had poured into the making of it. He went to the shadowed corner of the room, and shackled himself, feeling the darkness already overwhelming him.

 

Vanessa was lying as he had left her, watching as the moonlight began to fill the room. She ached all over. Her body felt limp and sore from her sadness. It felt like this was something that would never lift, nor was it something that should. This was to be always her mantle to bear. 

Alone for the first time since it had all happened, she felt so small, so insignificant, so lonely. It was just her now. Just her heart beating. She could sense no life in her, no hope. The connection was gone.

A noise, a strange noise, brought her out of the echoing empty void around her. She realized it was a mournful baying, coming from deep in the house. 

It was Ethan. 

She was suddenly fully present, her love for him stirring an emotion that was not the grief or disappointment or loss she’d been trapped in for so long. Her need to protect him gave her the strength to stand on her own, to walk on slightly unsteady feet out of the bedroom, down the hall, down the stairs. As the low mournful howling continued, she could feel herself being drawn to him, pulled by the preternatural connection between her and her wolf. 

When she entered the cellar, she saw the cradle for the first time. Tears sprung to her eyes as she looked upon the beautiful bed he had created for their baby, crafted so finely, and with such love. 

Realization dawned on her finally, breaking her out of her own grief. She turned to the shadows where Ethan hid, now making weak sounds of pain.

Ethan had lost his child. He had lost those same hopes, those same dreams that he had been crafting in himself just like she had within herself. She had been so debilitated by her own sadness, so grateful for his care, that this truth had not occurred to her.

She felt shame wash over her, for not seeing the pain the man she loved was going through. Hearing the animal that lived within him baying with the grief and loss he was experiencing broke her heart. 

She slowly approached the corner where he was curled up, rigid with pain. She reached out her hand, as she always did, to let him know that his mate was close. 

Yellow eyes met hers in the darkness. There was raw, animalistic pain in them. The beast was mourning the loss of its pup. 

“My beautiful wolf.” She whispered to him. 

She wept for him then, for the pain he was suffering. She knew it was her turn now to comfort him, to take care of him. She picked up the key from the floor and knelt down in front of him, gently removing the shackles from his wrists. The moment he was free, his clawed hands went to her, to pull her body to him and moving her so that he was wrapped around her. He buried his face in her neck, taking in deep inhalations of her scent. She gently stroked the soft fur on his head, listening to the whimpers of animalistic pain coming from deep within him. 

 

Ethan woke up just as the first weak rays of sunlight were entering from the small windows in the cellar. He and Vanessa were wrapped in one another, entwined and clinging. He heard her even breathing, felt it against him, and knew that she was safe in his embrace.

In some small way, he felt like something had lifted from him. He remembered the feeling of his mate holding him, of them mutually mourning their loss, and how, for the first time, it didn’t feel as sharp, as debilitating. Together, they had expressed some of this sadness, and within this shared release, took a small step forward. 

“The cradle is beautiful.” Her voice was soft, muffled against him.

“It was going to be a gift, for you, for…” He was scared of ending the sentence, scared as they all were at saying aloud what had been.

“For the baby.” 

And there it was, the flicker of strength that Vanessa had within her. This strength had always been a beacon for him, for Sir Malcolm, for Victor, and they had been floating aimlessly without it. Try as he could to protect her, it was her who was always protecting them. This unutterably powerful woman was their guide. 

For the first time since that horrible, blood soaked night, Ethan felt a shimmer of hope again. 

Then, within the sanctuary of this dimly lit room, they spoke of their grief, of the dreams that had been lost, of the crushing weight of sadness and shattered hope. Comforting each other with broken words said through tears, they shared with each other all of the pain that they’d been suffering. 

Neither of them had any idea how long they did this, but at one point the room seemed more filled with light than it had ever been. A silence fell finally, and still holding each other close, they both felt the grip of hopelessness start to slip off. 

“Maybe this is part of it.” She said, studying the beautiful empty cradle across the room. 

“Part of what?” 

“Part of God’s plan.” 

“Do you think God would be that cruel?”

“I believe God wouldn’t make us suffer this much without a purpose.”

“And what purpose could this much pain have?”

She looked at him, held his face in her hands, a ghost of a smile on her face.

“To make us strong. To prepare us for the gift he will give us one day.”

He dared not to think it. He was still so frightened of hope. But in the depths of Vanessa’s eyes he could tell that her powerful mind had seen something. He had learned to never doubt her ability to know where the path would lead them, to know God’s will. 

For now, it was enough to see those eyes clear and focused again. He lifted his face to hers and for the first time in a long time, he kissed her.


	2. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Vanessa have a honeymoon and try to recover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of a two part story.

Once Vanessa was well enough to travel, they went down to the south of France. The Doctor had insisted that she go somewhere warm and as stress free as possible to get back to full strength. What he wasn’t saying, however, was clear to both her and Ethan. They needed a change of scenery, to get away from England, to go to a place without the literal and figurative ghosts that haunted them, to help them try and work through their loss. 

Victor had insisted that he travel with them, in case she need any medical assistance and to ensure that she was treated carefully for the journey. Vanessa knew that Ethan could have ensured that, but saw how important it was for the Doctor to do this. When she saw the shadow of guilt in Victor’s eyes, she’d smiled weakly at him and reached out to squeeze his hand.

“What happened was not your fault, Victor.”

Though her health had improved some, it was still a fragile, extremely pale woman that Ethan and Victor put on the boat to France. Both men had insisted that she be always in a wheelchair while they were traveling, preparing to put their will against her legendary stubbornness. Vanessa only had to see the fear in Ethan’s eyes and she had relented. This trip was just as much about helping him work through his fears and sadness as it was for her.

When they stepped off the train in Nice, Vanessa took in a deep breath of the air, the smell of the the Mediterranean, the mix of all the food being lovingly prepared, the sun warmed skin of the smiling people who walked by and felt something inside her start to unknot itself. They were staying at a beautiful hotel right by the sea, a hotel that seemed as so old that it must have always been there. Their room was like something from a dream, everything white and golden, gauzy curtains gently dancing with the breeze, such a bright contrast to the dark, heavy interiors in London. Vanessa immediately went out onto the balcony that overlooked miles and miles of sapphire blue water, feeling the sun warming her body that had felt bone deep cold since that horrible night.

As Ethan began to unpack she insisted that the Doctor join her. Like a nocturnal creature who rarely felt sunlight, Victor looked dazed, overwhelmed by the brightness. Vanessa hid her smile at his befuddlement, at the sight of her surrogate brother’s translucently pale skin in the bright light. 

“Perhaps you need the warmer climate as well, Doctor.” She gently teased.

“As I am almost completely unable to see and feel like I am trapped inside an oven, I don’t believe that would be a good idea for me.” He said, retreating back into the shaded room.

He stayed that evening to eat a glorious supper, oysters fresh from the sea and soft bread, rich cheeses and dazzlingly good white wine, but he was on the train that night. He checked Vanessa over with nervous hands before he left. She had taken them into her own sure grip and assured him that she would be well. 

Then it was just her and Ethan in this beautiful room. Nestled in the middle of the big soft bed, with Ethan’s arms around her, she watched as a waning moon rose over the water. They were silent that night, the difference between this place and where they had been still making all of this seem like a dream. For those long moments it felt like London was a nightmare that Vanessa had had, until the moon rose above her sight, and then the memories flooded back. She turned in his embrace then, clinging to him as she hid her face in his shoulder. Ethan felt her tears dampening his skin as he stroked her hair, his own sadness still too bottled up inside him to have any kind of release.

 

She had been firmly installed out on the balcony the next day. Ethan had pulled down the canopy over head and placed an overstuffed chaise lounge in its shade. He had many pillows and soft muslin sheets and chenille blankets brought up to their room and made the lounge into a soft nest for her. Once he was assured that she was comfortable, he asked if she would be ok if he went out for just a little while to go pick up some things. Vanessa was frightened at the idea of being alone but she knew that this was something she needed to face, that hiding from herself by being always with Ethan was not how she was going to get back her strength. She also knew that it was important for Ethan to have time to himself, for him to not hide from his emotions by always taking care of her.

He was gone for only an hour, but when she heard the door open relief rushed through her. At first the ocean helped distract her, but she had began to have flashes, remembering the feeling of the slight swell of her belly against her palm. Her cheeks were wet with tears she didn’t know she was shedding. She dried her face quickly so he didn’t see, though it was futile to try and hide this from him. He quietly came up to her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and stroked her arm, before saying anything to her.

“Let me show you what I got.” 

Ethan had walked through the city buying anything and everything that he knew she would like, as well as all of some of the new or unfamiliar things he wanted to try. He had bought them packs of different kinds of French cigarettes, clove and cannabis and hashish, long thin black sticks that he knew would look so elegant between her beautiful fingers. He bought her silk Chinese parasols and a gauzy white dressing gown and an intricately embroidered silk scarf with long fringe to hide her pale skin under. He had bought himself some light linen shirts and pants to wear, more suited to the heat. 

There was at least 6 boxes of handmade chocolates he’d gotten from the local chocolatier, chocolate so smooth it was like silk on the tongue. There were loaves of fresh bread, preserves, cheeses, strawberries so sweet that they were like candy. There was also a vanilla and almond tiramisu that he’d left for the kitchen to bring up at breakfast the next morning. He was trying to tease her appetite back, seeing how little was able to eat. 

She perked up when she saw all of this, delighted by his sweetness and also eager to try these new things. Immediately she felt her stomach rumble and sat down at the table, delicately sampling each one once, then going back to try them again. When she realized that he was watching, she looked up to see his face awash with relief. She pulled on his hand, making him sit with her.

“You need to eat as well, my love.” She stroked his cheek, really noticing for the first time that his beautiful face was gaunt, his cheekbones sharp. They took their time then, putting cheese on bread, trying each kind of chocolate. Vanessa realized that she actually tasted the food for the first time in a long while, had actually enjoyed it. Once her stomach was full, she immediately felt sleepy.

As soon as he saw her eyelids drooping, he was there, scooping her up in his arms and laying her in the soft bed. She barely felt the brush of his lips against her forehead as she was already falling off to sleep. 

When she woke up the light slanting into the room let her know that it was late afternoon. She laid in bed, watching Ethan sitting at the desk in the corner writing. His shoulders still drooped under the weight of his grief. She remembered his confident stance, shoulders back, chest forward. Now he was almost always arched inward, weighted by his sadness but also usually as a way to shield her. Vanessa knew it was his animalistic side that made him unconsciously wrap about her, to put her in a place where she was protected. She thought about the wolf, baying in sadness, and knew that she also had to protect him.

They ate a light supper and managed to have a small amount of conversation at the table afterwards, but an emotionally neutral conversation, as close to small talk as they were able to do. She knew that neither one of them wanted to face the the silence of their own heads as the night began to fall. He asked her if she’d been to France before and was surprised when she said that she’d never left England.

“Then we have to do some traveling. There’s nothing like seeing the a completely foreign world under a familiar sky.”

“Like America?” She very much wanted to see Ethan’s home, to see the young, brash country that he had come from. 

“One day soon, I hope.” 

This was the first mention of the future that they’d made since she’d been pregnant. It hung in the air for a moment, this glimpse of something that was going to happen. Then the fear of expectation grabbed Vanessa by the chest and she couldn’t speak anymore.

When this silence fell, it was clear that they were both done with being strong that day. The lavender twilight off the ocean filled the room, making it feel still and safe. She went and laid back in the bed and he slipped in behind her, wrapping himself around her, their hands entwined over her heart. 

 

Vanessa gave herself over to the healing effect of being in this safe, beautiful, calm space. She spent her days out on the veranda in her chaise lounge. Ethan saw her on it, covered in silk and muslin in a nest of soft feather down pillows and told her she looked like Cleopatra on her barge. 

“I must admit, I do feel very regal like this.” She smiled softly at him. 

He took a pillow and sat on it on the floor by her feet, close but not hovering, and they stayed like this in silence, listening to the rhythmic waves, smelling the sea air, smoking the different cigarettes. Vanessa tumbled through so many thoughts, fragmented, bits of sharp emotion followed by numbness. She pulled herself back by looking at Ethan sitting on the ground next to her. She watched the lines around his eyes as he looked out in the bright day, the restless worrying of hands that betrayed his own anxieties. Seeing him like this, she felt the need to soothe, to touch him but it wasn’t something she was able to actualize. Her weakness, combined with her own numbness, kept her still in her seat.

They did this for many days, one day bleeding into the next until Vanessa didn’t know how much time had passed. The safety of the room cocooned around her, the dream like quality, the indulgent routine of delicate dessert for breakfast, smoking on the balcony, long naps in the afternoon, listening to the sounds of people and life and music close to them but still far away. In this space she began to be able to stretch out thoughts beyond where they met razor sharp corners of memories. 

“You know, we never had a honeymoon.” The words slipped out of her one evening, without her realizing it. Finally her voice was seeking him.

“I suppose our time in the cottage was more like being a homesteader than being on vacation.” He answered her quietly, eyes still unfocused as he looked out over the sea.

“A honeymoon and a vacation aren’t the same thing though. Do you know why they call it a honeymoon?” He shook his head, still not looking at her. “The tradition is that the couple is supposed to go somewhere and be together, just the two of them, for one full moon cycle, to ensure pregnancy.”

She pressed against the sharpness to see where he was with it, proximity wise. She watched his chin fall, eyes drop. 

“Well I suppose we did hold to that tradition.” He said very quietly.

This was as far as either of them wanted to go, but testing that edge, it had taken courage from her. They had to be able to work this loss into their own personal story as well as remembering that this story had not ended. 

 

The food and the quiet and the sun and the rest began to work on her. She woke up one morning with that old desire of hers, to see something new. She asked if they might go out for lunch that day.

“I know just the place.” He said with a small relieved smile.

Though he’d been unsure at first, she convinced him that she would be able to handle the walk to the restaurant. Taking his steadying arm, they walked slowly, Vanessa’s eyes traveling over everything. The expressions of the faces of the people they passed, the texture of the stone of the terraced homes, the wild swoops of the birds above them. It all rushed over her, through her. 

“I’d forgotten.” She said in an awe struck voice.

“Forgotten what, darlin’?”

“How beautiful it all is.”

The cafe where they ate was intimate, only about a dozen or so seats. An old woman with a face creased from decades of smiles served them, stopping to coo at Vanessa, to touch her cheek. When she was gone, Ethan asked Vanessa what she’d said.

“She told me I had the brush of the angels upon my face, which I suppose is true, just not the angels she’s thinking of.”

“You have been touched by divinity, Vanessa, and it shows.”

Out in the sunlight, she was able to see how run down Ethan was. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was paler than she had ever seen it. Two nights prior, when the full moon peaked, the wolf would not lay in the bed with her. With its haunches raised, the beast had sequestered itself to a dark corner and curled up. When she asked it to come to her, it had raised weary yellow eyes to hers and turned its head away. Ethan and the wolf were still holding the grief close. 

After they were done their meal, she told him that she needed to do some shopping. Before he could answer she reached out to stroke his face, watching as he went still under her touch.

“You need some time in that beautiful quiet room by yourself, my love. I will be fine, I assure you.”

He had gone back to the hotel with great hesitancy, only able to leave after she promised him that she would come back if she felt overwhelmed. She found a dress shop near the hotel. After being without a corset for so long, the idea of being trapped in such discomfort seemed appalling. Vanessa bought loose gowns, cotton and fawn dresses with intricate lace and ribboning, a linen day jacket, white net gloves, slim satin slippers. She ran her fingers over the silk chemises, the frilled knickers, camisoles made of fine chambris and the most delicate stockings she’d ever felt. Uncertainty ran through her. Her senses were just waking up and these alluring fabrics felt like whispers against her fingertips. Yet in a way that she’d never felt her whole life, she was disconnected from her senses, from any idea of the sensuality of touch and skin. She knew that Ethan was much the same, both timid and reserved with their affection. Yet looking at all the snowy purity caused her to have a bright flash of memory. She saw Ethan’s face looking at her that night after the opera, when she’d first shown herself to him, clad in these complex, utterly feminine pieces. 

This memory was flush with love and light, and completely void of the sharpness of the memories that had haunted her relentlessly of late. She didn’t know when she was going to be able to have that kind of intimacy with Ethan again, but she wanted these things to be a part of it.

She’d come into the hotel room with the bellman pushing a cart of boxes of what she’d bought. He came in from the balcony and smiled at the bounty. 

“Productive afternoon then?”

She rushed to him to press a kiss to his lips. His eyes were red and his voice raspy. He’d released something that afternoon, she could tell, for he moved just a little easier than before.

“May I take you to lunch again tomorrow?” She asked.

 

Being back in the world again, feeling everyday life going on around her reminded Vanessa that she too was part of all this, that she was still alive and present. She took slow walks around the city in the afternoons on her own, parasol aloft, wearing one of her new dresses that were so light that she could feel the wind swirling them against her. As she went down new streets and saw new things her mind started to unravel itself, started to make connections that she’d not seen before. 

She realized that this loving domestic future she had dreamt of, that the actualization of it had become an insistent need in her to prove the devil wrong. This future was something that she could have, that she and Ethan both deserved to have. She knew that they both were always stained by the sins of their past, that they both had blood on their hands, but they had found their redemption in one another. The presence of Ethan in her life had saved her, released her from the darkness that had enshrouded her, that had pushed her into causing so much careless destruction. They were going to bring life into the world, after causing so much death. She had hoped that it would make some kind of amends for her past, and when she lost the baby, she’d lost that chance. She didn’t know now if this was something God was going to allow her to have. 

That night she and Ethan leaned over the balustrade of the balcony to watch the gaslights twinkle throughout the streets, smoking those dark cigarettes. A memory floated up into her mind's eye.

“I remember when I realized that you would be a good father. It was the first time I took you with me to the catacombs. Even though I had reminded you that you could not save everyone there, and that the best you could do was ease their suffering for but a moment, I could see you wanting to protect every person you went by. I had to squeeze your hand to remind you of what I’d said, to focus you on just giving soup to who was in front of you, to know that was the most you could do. It was right before we left, when I had come back to the soup line. You were kneeling in front of this child, a little girl, she couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5. You were speaking very softly to her, and I watched as you took your handkerchief and gently wiped the dirt from her cheek. That gesture, the care in it, I realized that your nature would lend itself so perfectly to being a father. That you would be gentle and compassionate and patient and loving.”

Silence settled between them again and Vanessa couldn’t bear to look at him. She had spoken without forethought, and now realized how much it must have hurt him. She didn’t know where he was with his own grief. She didn’t know if this was something he was ready to hear. She felt horribly selfish in that moment, like she’d opened a fresh wound in him.

When she dared to look at him, his head was down, his hands balled up into fists pressing into the stone. She reached out and very tentatively laid her hand on his clenched fingers. He took a deep shuddering breath as he looked up at the dark sky, and Vanessa could see tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Ethan, I’m sorry.” 

He could only shake his head, lips tense with all the emotion he was holding in. She knew then what it was he needed, what she had to do. 

Vanessa put a hand on each shoulder and made him move to face her, though he still didn’t meet her eyes. She reached up to cup the back of his neck, to make him look at her. The sadness in those brown eyes made her ache for him in a completely unselfish way. She felt pure sympathy and love for him, completely overwhelming any of her own grief.

“Ethan, I’m sorry.” She said it firmly, not for herself, but for him. “I am so sorry.”

The emotions broke then, and he collapsed against her. She moved him to sit on the lounge and wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders as sobs tore through him. Through their connection she saw, finally, what he had been hoping for. She saw how he believed that being a father would be a way to right the wrongs that had been committed to him growing up, how the idea of this child, part her and part him, would be such a wonder to behold. The light and hope in these dreams were dim now, barely present. He had been pushing them away, believing it was him, that his curse would always destroy his dreams. 

“It’s not your fault, Ethan.” She whispered to him. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Vanessa was starting to feel like the fog of her sadness was clearing, even just a little. Victor had been right that a new place, free of memories and shadows, helping her. Going to different tiny cafes with Ethan every afternoon and eating such enticing meals were replenishing her, mind and body. Then she walked on her own through the streets of this old city, watching everyday life happening.

In those afternoons, Vanessa was suitably distracted from her own lost hopes that they didn’t haunt her thoughts as they did when the quiet was too much. However, it was inevitable that something was going to come along and break that spell. As she walked back to the hotel, a woman sitting on her front steps caught Vanessa’s eye. The woman held a baby to her breast, and gazed down at the child with infinite love and happiness.

It was as if a knife had been stabbed into Vanessa’s chest. She reeled from the unexpected, overwhelming agony, her breath knocked from her. Without knowing it, she was running away from this, her flight response activated by this display of the intimate connection of motherhood. When she got back to the hotel room, she was out of breath, and still not completely focused on what was around her. Ethan came to her, asked her if she was alright, if something had happened. 

She looked up into those loving brown eyes and had no words to speak of what she’d seen. Shaking her head, she took deep breaths to calm herself, to quell his fears, to assure him that everything was fine. Ethan didn’t look convinced, but he did not push her, for which she was grateful for. 

Once reality came crashing in, once she realized where she was and felt the echo of that agony again, the silence of the room was too much. She put on a falsely bright face and said that she wanted to go out that night, for a wonderful evening meal, to the finest restaurant in town.

Though she was back outside surrounded by people, there was still a wildness in Vanessa’s eyes. She ordered plates of food and ate nothing, favoring the bottle of wine at the table instead. She drank glass after glass, feeling the stab of pain dulled more with each swallow. The false cheerfulness turned into a frantic drunkenness. Her laughter became loud and bordering on hysterical. Ethan finally cut her off, gently but firmly taking her by the arm and leading her out of the restaurant. In the carriage home, she insisted repeatedly that she was fine, that he was being overprotective, that she was a grown woman who could drink as much as she wanted.

The wine wasn’t enough to make this pain disappear. She needed to feel something, anything other than the terrible despair inside her. In the darkness of the hotel room, Vanessa turned in Ethan’s grasp to quickly run her hands over him. She purred into his neck how she wanted him, how she needed him right that very moment. It had been so long, so long since she felt that ecstasy that she always felt under his touch. That would blot out this pain, and she could float in that physical rush, float away from this crushing misery. 

Ethan refused, gently taking her hands off him.

“This isn’t what you want, Vanessa.”

“It is, it is!” She was frenzied in her insistence. “Please Ethan! Just fuck me! Do it now, please, please, please!”

But this was not lustful, as the words had been in the past. There was a desperation in her eyes, her hands scrambling to hold onto him like she was drowning. She begged, over and over, and still he refused to let her touch him. His silence and the pain in his eyes made her realize what she was doing. She felt anger boil up in her and she wrenched herself away from him.

“So I am no longer desirable to you? Now that you know any child you put in me will wither and die? Now that you know that my body is a poison?” She screamed at him, voice ragged as tears streamed down her face. 

This made the sadness in his eyes become deeper, made his shoulders slump. 

“Vanessa.” He whispered her name with such love, such compassion, that it broke through the delirium. 

She stood before him then, trying to speak but unable to find the words, feeling like all of the pain inside her was bubbling to the surface of her skin and scratching at her, much like the evil in her had before. Her whole body began to shake then, as the grief and pain tore through her body.

Ethan caught her as she was falling, and held her tightly to him, and through the roar of blood in her ears she heard him.

“It’s not your fault, Vanessa, it’s not your fault.”

He chanted the words to her the way he had chanted the incantations to her before, when her soul was lost in torment. And like before eventually his voice broke through. Eventually she slumped into his arms, feeling the cutting edges of her grief being taken from her. 

 

Vanessa was quiet for the next couple of days. This wound in her was so deep, she knew it would never heal completely. What she had to figure out was how to live with it. She only got out of bed to go and lay on the chaise lounge. Ethan respected her quiet and gave her space, spending the days inside the room or out walking. She didn’t know where he was going but when he got back in the evenings she could smell the sea on him, the sea and the earthy hint of sand. This combination pricked something in her memory, a sense, a place, somewhere safe and full of possibilities, of adventures. Suddenly it came rushing back to her, that feeling of the sand between her toes, the water lapping over her feet, the rush of the wind off the ocean. 

“Might I come with you to the beach tomorrow?”

 

In his wanderings Ethan had found a secluded spot, away from the town, without any other people. He had the hotel pack a carriage with large umbrellas, many pillows and soft blankets, with baskets of food and water packed in ice to keep it cool. As he set up a spot for them, Vanessa stood, muted by the vastness of the ocean, stretching as far as her eye could see. This was not the sea of her childhood. Where there had been a cold bite to the wind, here it was sultry. The sand under her feet wasn’t a slate grey flecked with ground down shells, rather soft and the rich golden colour of creme brulee. The water was a deep blue, like the inside of an oyster shell, rather than the churning pale grey of the Atlantic. It was as if that safe place, where she had always gone to when she was growing up, it was like the place had been infused with light and warmth, ready for her to sink into it, to be healed by it. She pulled off her shoes and stockings and sunk her toes deep into the sand, feeling the calmness washing through her body. 

They went there every day after that, from mid morning and until just before sunset. The evening was too much for Vanessa, being out so exposed in the darkness. The shadows frightened her again but not for the reasons that they had before. It was not an evil that lurked where she could not see, it was pain, loss. 

In the sun, however, she felt like her body was renewing itself. Initially she had sat underneath the shade of the umbrellas, in her long dress and hat and gloves. Seeing Ethan stretched out in the sunlight, the sleeves of his loose muslin shirt rolled up, the collar unbuttoned, the wind whipping through it, she could feel the layers stifling her. She realized that she felt truly warm, hot even. When she told Ethan this, with a note of real shock in her voice, a laugh, a real laugh, issued from him.

“I don’t believe I have ever heard you sound more British than just now.” He smiled at her, squinting up at her under the sunlight. “It’s just you and I, you can take off some of the layers.”

At first, she only removed her underskirts and her day jacket, but as the days wore on, the long sleeved linen dress felt cumbersome. Finally she wore only her chemise and a long delicate fawn skirt, her legs bare underneath. Thus unencumbered, she lay back in the shade, her eyes closed, the sound of the waves lulling her. She could sense Ethan close to her, could sense the peace of this place taking over him as well.

Within this growing calm she began to feel the memories float back again to the surface. They were not as jagged as before but still had an ache to them. It wasn’t just her own lost hopes that she was thinking of now. She remembered the faces of the men she loved, their faces after that terrible night. Victor, always so haunted by the threat of death, looking incredulous at what it was capable of taking away. Sir Malcolm, blue eyes wet with tears, his heart broken for her. And Ethan, her beautiful Ethan. 

She started to remember then. She remembered his quiet presence next to her, always, asking nothing from her, but there if she needed or wanted anything. Ethan sitting next to her, holding her hand in his, his eyes downward, forever loyal. Here he was still, there by her side. She turned her head and saw him there, really saw him, recognized his constant loving presence in her life. She didn’t think he had noticed her eyes on him, but he was always aware of her, always attuned to her. He turned his head to meet her eyes and smiled his crooked smile at her. She held out her hand then, and he reached out and took it in his. 

“When you were…” He started to speak, eyes looking down at her pale hand in his. “After...before you woke up…”

“Ethan, I know what Victor did. I know he was giving me his injections. I am not angry with him. I know his intentions behind it were motivated by his affection for me.” 

She could tell by the expression on his face that he wasn’t okay with this, not even now, but she didn’t push him on it. 

“You said something…” She squeezed his hand to encourage him to keep telling her. “You said you knew the baby was a girl.”

It wasn’t the sharp stab of pain like before. It felt precious now in its fragility, this knowledge, in the brief space it had existed. She was quiet, eyes down, sorting through these emotions when she felt him try to pull his hand away. She refused to let him, held on to his tighter, and met his eyes, a ghost of a sad smile on her face.

“Yes.” She whispered to him, and that sad smile reflected back to her.

He moved so he was laying next to her, close but not touching. 

“Had you…what did you…” He took a deep breath. “What name?”

“Claire. After my mother.” Her voice was a whisper over the sound of the waves that were keeping them safe.

“Could you see her?” His looked at her then, his eyes dancing with tears. She nodded, feeling her own cheeks becoming wet.

“Her eyes were blue.” 

He let out a shuddery exhale, a half sob. She pulled him to her then and they held onto each other tightly. 

“I knew. I knew that they were blue.” He whispered into her neck. 

They were able to speak of it now. In this place, of light and warmth, in the lull of the waves and the sky, they were able to speak about the hopes and the dreams they had had. Ethan told her about the cradle, about how the thought of being a father felt right to him, about how he had never known a terror like those horrible days when he didn’t know if was going to lose her as well as the baby. She saw this deep fear still in his eyes, and imagined what it must have been like for him, to think that he was going to lose her as well as their child, that his whole future was about to disappear. 

She realized only then how he had pulled himself through this. The fact that she had lived, that she was still here with him, this was the hope that lived on within him. The light of this freed her from a prison she’d been in without her even knowing it. She did still have hope for the future. She had this man, her wolf, by her side. Their future was still alive, stretching out in front of her like the sea. This future was rich with possibilities, knowledge, travel, adventures, love. Maybe, just maybe, there was another blue eyed little girl out there as well, waiting for them. 

Vanessa spoke all of this to him, and together, finally, they were able to start to pull themselves out of the darkness that the loss had thrown them into. 

 

“Do you know how to swim?” 

The water had been more and more enticing to her. She began to feel drawn to it, needing to feel it against her.

“I grew up in a desert where the ocean was nothing more than a fairy tale, darlin’.” 

She stood up and began to remove her underskirt and chemise, a blush staining her cheeks. This intimacy of undressing in front of him, done in an open space, it made her unable to meet his gaze. Once she was down to the thin cotton underdress that only came to her knees, she looked down at him quickly with a small timid smile, then turned towards the water. She felt slightly ridiculously for having this reaction, this modesty in front of the man who had made love to her so many times, in so many different ways, but all of that seemed so different now. 

When they touched each other now, it was with affection but that was it. There had been a distance between them, much like the distance there was before they had found a way to each other. So locked within her own grief, Vanessa didn’t even think to touch him, to reach out to him. She didn’t know if this was why that he didn’t touch her often or for very long, if it was this or if it was a respect for her grief, for her. Their affection was loving but brief, gentle but not often. Their only prolonged contact was at night when he held her in his arms until she dropped off to sleep. The comfort of his chest under her cheek, of his arm around her waist, of the sound of his slow, regular breaths, made her, as always, feel incredibly safe. That darkness dare not approach her when she was in the arms of her wolf. 

She walked into the sea slowly, letting the waves lap against her ankles, her knees, her thighs, then dove in. The water made her whole body come to life. She felt the water holding her, the freedom of her movements making her feel light, like a feather in the breeze. All of the heaviness, the aching in her body, the weight that she’d been carrying, it all lifted. As she emerged from the water, she was as one anew, happy tears mixing with the sea, being carried away from her. She took a deep lungful of air, and felt actual joy for the first time in so long.

Ethan was standing at the water’s edge, relief on his face at seeing the light of her smile again, finally. 

“Come in, Ethan. The water is so warm.” She swam closer to him, until she felt the ground under her feet again. “Compared to the cold water I learned to swim in, this is like a bath.” 

“You look like a mermaid out there, singing me your siren song.” He grinned as he began to unbutton his shirt.

Seeing his bare skin made her realize how the days in the sun had tanned him darker and darker, making him swarthy. Again, the intimacy of this made her shy, and she turned away while he removed his pants. He approached slowly, almost distrustful of the water, until he was chest deep in front of her. 

“This is one of the strangest sensations I have ever felt.” He admitted, his face a mix of dubious worry and amazement. 

“Let the water support you. You’re naturally buoyant, it will not pull you under.” She reached out for his hand and pulled him out farther.

“Move your arms like this to keep yourself afloat.”

“You just said I was naturally buoyant.” His forehead was creased with uncertainty, and he reached out to grab onto her arm as the waves moved him off his feet.

“I thought dogs naturally knew how to swim.” She teased him, and a giggle escaped her lips. 

At the sound of that giggle his whole face was awash with joy. He pulled her to him then, back to solid ground, took her smiling face in his hands and kissed her, not with the gentleness and briefness of their kisses of late. He kissed her with the all encompassing love he had inside him for her, relief at her smile, at her very presence in that moment, in this extraordinary place. Losing this, her, with him, like this, this is what he had feared so sharply. She could feel that fear slipping from him, felt his shoulders press back again, felt her strong confident Ethan holding her in his arms.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the waves lapping at their skin, and studied his face so close to hers. His smile became delighted as he looked at her, and a wonderment filled his eyes. 

“What?” She asked at this look.

“Freckles.” He ran his fingers over the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks. “You have so many new freckles.”

“Such is my punishment for going about without my hat.”

“No, not a punishment.” His touch became slower then, as he trailed his fingertips gently across her cheek. “You look so innocent.”

This caused her to laugh again at the irony of the statement, but he was not dissuaded. She had not realized that the sunlight had taken away her the unhealthy paleness from her face, even brighten the dark circles under her eyes that seemed to have been a constant her whole adult life. In that moment, she glowed with life.

She could see it in his eyes, though, could see the relief, the love, the happiness. She felt his body close to hers, felt the slide of his skin against hers in the water, and suddenly she realized how much she’d missed him. The feeling of him, of his hands touching her, of his lips on her, the long stretch of months without it blossomed into a deep hunger. With trembling fingers she took his face in hers and pulled him to her so she could kiss him. 

The love that communicated between them in this kiss was beyond any that words could have ever said. It was like returning home, back to the safety and the familiarity and the passion that still burned so bright there. They were slow still, gentle, as not to spook this moment away, but eventually the need started to run through her whole body. She lifted her legs to wrap around his hips and felt him, knew he wanted this as much as she did. 

Vanessa pulled back only then from their kisses to look him in the eyes, to stroke his face as she had that first time on the stairs so long ago. He was waiting, wanting to know what she wanted, putting this before any of his own desires. There was never a place that existed where Vanessa had felt so safe and so loved as she did within his arms. She smiled at him, and nodded.

“Are you sure?” He wanted to, she could feel it in the tension in his muscles, the depths of his eyes, but still he had to know she was certain.

“Yes, my love, yes.” 

He picked her up then and carried her back to the shore, her arms and legs still wrapped around him. With the utmost gentleness, he laid her on the blanket under the shade of the umbrella, mute and unmoving as he took in the sight of her in the now translucent wet dress, clinging to her body in a way that seemed even more alluring than nudity. His hands ghosted over the fabric clinging to her curves, diaphanous, like a gown on a goddess. 

It was with the same reverence as the the first time that he touched her, so long ago, by a different sea. He was slow, cautious. She was as overwhelmed now as she was then, not as frightened but still fearful of the desire inside her. He waited until she was ready, until her body was relaxed before touching her in her most intimate place. But this wasn’t what she needed, nor was it what he needed either. 

Vanessa pushed him until he lay on his back and straddled his body, peeling off the wet dress so that she was naked before his eyes. The emotions in his face, seeing her like this again, it was like he was coming home. She leaned forward to press kisses to his lips, again and again, pouring all of her love into him, all her need. 

“I missed you, my love.” She murmured against his skin. 

In this place, in the warmth of the sun, in the lull of the waves, they came together again, became one again.

After, as she lay her head on his heaving chest, she realized that the sun was about to set, that their bodies were golden in the light. They lay entwined, the only two people in existence, with all possibilities, all hope, all of the things that they wanted theirs for the taking. Vanessa shut her eyes then, and found Ethan through their connection. She felt his arms around her tighten as together, through their bond, they both made the same wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the [The Lovers series AU.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/351620) There is a prequel to this series called [Sleeping Beauty](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5359436) as well as a sequel called [Wedding.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6628774/chapters/15168202) There are also two short stories set in the universe called [Diamonds and Pearls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6628774/chapters/15951589) and [Watching a Beauty Woman Laugh,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6899806) followed by this two part story called [Grief.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7362892) The series ends with [Grandpa.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7332376)


End file.
